Missing
by Princess Caroline
Summary: Comics never say anything about what the mother of a superhero has to go through... especially when said hero doesn't come home. A short fanfiction focusing on the Pulverizer's mother, set after the most recent episode. [TMNT 2k12]


**(Potential spoilers if you have not seen the newest episode/s. You have been warned.)**

After reading a lot of TMNT 2k12 fanfiction I decided to write one of my own. This is the result - kind of a sad piece, normally not the direction I go in my writing, but... meh. I just felt like it. Let me know what you think ^_^

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles belongs to Nickelodeon, Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird.

_"We assure you, ma'am, we will do everything we can to try and find Timothy. Do not leave your house. As soon as we find something, we'll let you know."_

"Thank you, Officer. Thank you so much..." The phone came back to rest on the receiver with a soft click as the woman hung up. She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief she had with her - it was so stained with tears and running makeup that it looked more like a ratty dishrag. Of all the things that could happen to a parent, this had to be the worst possible.

It didn't seem like so big a deal at first. There were lots of boys her son's age who were still into superheroes, she was sure. And nothing really bad could come from him making himself a costume, right? It was a wish-fulfillment fantasy, and it warmed her inside to see her little Timmy so happy about wanting to do something to try and help others (even if it did seem a little over the top - what kind of name is "Pulverizer" for a good guy?).

Then Timothy started staying out later than usual. New York City was a dangerous place for pretty much everyone to be at night, and like any mother she was concerned about her son's welfare. When he came home one night covered in bruises, she decided to confront him - and was not reassured one bit by the way he dodged her questions, hiding behind a vague response basically amounting to "It's a secret, Mom, I'm fine, don't worry". And every time she asked after that, he kept saying things about "ninja training" and "alien robots" and more about secrecy. More than a few times she had passed his bedroom on the way to her own and heard him muttering to himself about "Krang", or something very similar. _Has he gotten involved with a gang?_ she would wonder to herself. _Has he started taking drugs?_ Timothy wasn't answering her questions, so there was no way to know for sure...

Some relief was felt when the announcement came that Timothy had joined a dojo. Chris Bradford was a very famous man and a very successful martial artist - surely someone like him would be a good role model for her son. Focusing his energy into martial arts would surely take his mind off of the drugs if he WAS taking them, and she could rest a little bit easier knowing her baby boy would be in a safe, structured, educational environment. However, it hadn't stopped him from staying out late. If anything, Timothy had started staying out even later than before...

Last night, he went out and didn't come home at all. The excuse he gave for leaving was something to do with the new friends he'd made at the dojo, but by this point she didn't want her son going out at all, no matter what the excuse. Unfortunately for her, Timothy had left too fast for her to stop him, which left her no choice but to wait until he came home so she could confront him then. It had been a full twenty-four hours since he had slammed that door behind him. She was on the verge of tearing her hair out from worry. Calling the police and filing that Missing Person's Report was the second most agonizing thing she had ever done - sitting, and waiting, and doing nothing until they called back would be the first.

She jumped, hearing the squeak of a window opening upstairs. For a moment, hope soared in her chest - maybe it was Timothy, trying to sneak in through a window so he wouldn't get caught. She all but flew up the stairs, ready to hug or yell at her son, she wasn't sure which would happen. Her hands scrambled frantically for the doorknob as the window squeaked shut again, and when she finally managed to throw it open... no one was there. His room was the same way it was the last time she'd seen it: unmade bed, dirty clothes in a corner of the floor, various scraps of paper with unintelligible superhero gibberish...

Wait a minute. That one doesn't look like Timothy's handwriting... She walked over to the new paper on his pillow and picked it up. This writing was neat and fluid, and it almost seemed like it had been planned out like a science project.

_I'm so sorry._

_Timothy had to leave for a while._

_He is safe._

_He'll be home soon._

_I promise._

_- D._

D... She didn't know any of his friends had a name that started with D. Whoever he was, though, it appeared she had no choice but to trust him. A volley of fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, landing on the paper and smudging a couple of Es and a T. "You'd better keep him safe, or else," she muttered softly to the empty room. "Keep my Timmy safe..."

So wrapped up in her onslaught of emotion, she didn't notice the humanoid shadow outside the window nod in affirmative response before jumping away into the night.


End file.
